Fairytale of New York
by Nolly-the-Lolly
Summary: A peculiar case falls in the lap of Det. Emma Swan and her team, dragging a very handsome best selling author into the case as it progresses. AU. All ships. Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

**Fairytale of New York**

_AU. Inspired by the ABC show Castle. You don't have to watch it to understand the storyline. This idea's been in my head for a while now, so I finally decided to put it down on paper. It will incorporate lots of ships, so it doesn't matter what one you actually follow, 'cos there all going to be here. I own nothing. Not OUAT, nor Castle. Enjoy!_

* * *

Detective Emma Swan wakes on a gloomy New York Monday morning to the sound of her phone blaring her ringtone.

_Caller ID: David Nolan._

"Swan." She says sleepily.

"Mornin' sunshine." He says into her ear, too cheery for a Monday. "Murder calls. Central Park."

"I'll be there in fifteen." She replies, promptly hanging up the phone, not wanting to stay talking for another second. When it comes, to laziness on a Monday morning, Emma Swan was the queen. She rests the phone back down on the table beside the bed before rolling back onto the pillow, closing her eyes again, only to have then reopened by the sound of a different ringtone.

"Humbert." Her companion answers the phone after one ring. "Yeah, Dave, I'll be there in ten."

Emma sits up, holding the olive-green sheet to her chest as she does so. Her hair was all over the place, a reminder of the night before. Her co-worker, Detective Graham Humbert, stood before her now, shirtless, revealing all of his toned glory. This string of one-night stands had been going on for months now, and so far, neither had become attached, so their relationship, as far as anyone at the 12th Precinct is concerned, is still merely professional. It had started after one particularly tough case had been closed, albeit not in the most desirable way, and they had found comfort in each other's company. It was only meant to be a one time thing, but it had evolved to the point to where they used sex to blow off some steam after a long day at work.

Emma reluctantly pulls herself out of the bed she had shared with Graham last night, grabbing her clothes off the floor and quickly dressing.

"Don't you think Mary-Margaret will notice you are in the same clothes you were in yesterday?" Graham asks his colleague, still unsure if Emma's best friend had figured out what had been going on with them in the past few months. "You did have lunch with her yesterday."

"Spare clothes in my car." Emma replies, grabbing her phone off the side table, and crossing the small apartment to collect her purse from the couch, where the festivities had begun last night. "See you at the crime scene!" She shouts, heading hastily out of the door, shutting it behind her.

Graham pauses for a minute after Emma had left, then returns to his small bedroom where the double-bed is left in a crumpled mess, making him smile at the thought of last night's events. He spies something black out of the corner of his eye, peeking out from under the bed. Being the great detective he is, he determines that Emma Swan had left his apartment in such a haste that she forgot her bra. Chuckling, he throws the undergarment into his chest of drawers, and continues to get dressed.

* * *

"What do we got, David?" Emma asks, ducking under the crime scene tape, being careful not to spill her coffee while doing so. She had changed into a purple tank top, black blazer and black jeans, keeping her black ankle-boots on.

"Not in the mood for pleasantries I see, Swan." David begins, regretting what he said immediately after Emma shoots him a _don't mess with me before I've finished my coffee _look. "Okay." He continues, raising his eyebrows and avoiding eye contact. "Laura Bonny. Twenty-six. Two joggers found her at approximately seven-fifteen this morning. Looks like she was stabbed to death. A lot. But of course, we have to wait for Snow to get here. She's going to love this." He smiles, calling the Medical Examiner by the pet name he had coined for her when they first met. As payback, Dr. Mary-Margaret Blanchard opts for calling him by the nickname she came up with for him. 'Charming.'

"Why?" Emma asks the newest detective in their merry band of three. David had been in the Special Forces before joining the NYPD. He arrived a few months after Graham did. While the other detective transferred from Narcotics, Emma had passed her detective's exam with flying colours, being given the grand title of Homicide Detective just over three years ago. At age twenty-six, Emma was the youngest cop that ever made detective, and since then, she was reigning queen of the homicide division, with the highest case closure rate out of all the homicide detectives in the city. It was a title that Emma treasured almost as much as her adopted son, Henry.

"Oh, you're gonna want to see this." He smiles with the excitement of a child in a candy store.

He leads Emma towards a huge oak tree in the middle of the field. At the base of the gigantic plant, there lay Snow White, the front of her otherwise pristine white dress was stained with red. "Snow White." Emma observes. "You're right, she really _is _going to love this. Especially with you going on about it all day." She finishes sarcastically, handing David her coffee and crouching down to examine the body. The blood was stained around the abdomen, but the strange this about the victim- aside from the fact that she was dressed as Snow White- was that there were no tears or rips in the costume, indicating stab wounds. "Did anyone touch the body?" Emma asks.

"Nope." David answers simply. "Graham! Welcome to the party!" David greets the other member of their team.

"Is it a costume party?" Graham inquires with a laugh, spotting the body.

"I wish. Then I could have slept in." David replies. Emma and Graham share an awkward look, that David doesn't see, because he is too busy admiring the beauty of the Medical Examiner who just strutted on scene. "Snow." David chuckles lightly, unable to keep in a laugh.

"Now, Detective Nolan, is that any way to behave at a crime scene?" She asks in a mock motherly tone. When she sees Emma and Graham giggle slightly together just behind David, she gives in. "What's so funny?" She says, stepping forward, past David.

"Nothing." Emma replies quickly, not turning around so that she doesn't burst into a fit of giggles when she sees David laughing behind her.

Mary-Margaret pushes past the remaining two snickering detectives, finally laying her eyes on the body.

"Oh, very mature, you three. Snow White. Ha Ha. I get it" She says, raising her hands, one of which holds a clipboard, before crouching down beside the body to get a closer look. "Judging by the amount of blood that is here," she continues, avoiding the fact that the victim bears a striking similarity to her, "I'd say she was killed elsewhere, then her body was placed here."

Emma reacts immediately to the statement, turning to David and saying, "Canvas the area. See if you can find that crime scene." David nods, walking away, shaking his head.

Mary-Margaret continues her statement while Emma gives the order to David. "Looks like she was dressed post-mortem, due to the lack of tears in her dress." She pauses. "Lavidity indicates that she was killed at approximately two to four am this morning."

"Okay, so she wasn't here long." Graham concludes, causing a few women around to swoon at his Irish accent. "I'll start a canvas. See if anyone heard or saw anything." He finishes, sticking his hands in the pocket of his suit pants, and walking away. Emma can't help but stare at the man. His suit was impeccably tailored, his vest fitting him in all the right places.

After Graham was out of Emma's sight, she re-focused her attention on her best friend and the corpse.

"I'll have to wait until I get her back to the morgue to examine her wounds." The ME says, gesturing to two men to start packing up the body. "You okay, Ems?"

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine, just tired. That's all." She reassures her friend, hoping she doesn't ask her why she's tired. Thankfully, they're interrupted as CSI Ruby Lucas walks up to them, carrying an evidence bag.

"I found this in the bushes over there, Emma." She says, gesturing to the cluster of greenery to her left. "It has traces of blood on it. Human." Ruby's area of expertise was blood and DNA analysis, specifically blood spatter patterns.

Emma takes the bag out of Ruby's outstretched hand, holding it in front of her face closely so that she can inspect the writing on it. It was a page out of a book. Luckily for Emma, the book's title was printed at the top of the page. _Once Upon A Time. _Scanning over the writing, she realises it's a page out of a novel that Mary-Margaret had recommended to her a few months ago. _What was that author's name? Godammit, why can't I think of it? _

"Hey, Maggie?" Emma called after her friend. "Remember that book you loaned me a few months back?"

"Which one?" She counters.

"Once Upon A Time." The blonde girl answered, and her short-haired friend nodded. "Who was the author of that?"

"As far as I remember, his name was Killian Jones." She replies. "Why?"

"I think that this is a page out of that book." Emma answered, handing the ME the piece of paper encased in a plastic bag.

She stands tapping her foot as Mary-Margaret reads both sides of the paper. "It is. A chapter about Snow White hiding out in the forest from her evil stepmother."

"This chapter is on Snow White?" Emma repeats. "Ruby," she calls, beckoning her dark-haired friend closer. "Take this back to the lab and run it for prints and DNA. Thanks."

"I'm gonna ride back to the morgue with the body. I'll call you if I find anything." Mary-Margaret states, spinning gracefully on her heel and turning towards the coroner's van.

Emma, now standing alone at the crime-scene, decides to head back to the precinct to gather information on the victim. As she leaves the crime scene, her phone rings. "Swan." She answers hastily, not even bothering to look at the caller ID.

"Swan. It's Captain Mills. The victim's family is waiting for you at the precinct." Her captain tells her.

"Okay. I'm on my way back to the precinct now. I'll be there in five." She finishes, ending the call.

* * *

After talking to the victim's sister and brother, Emma had only uncovered one useful fact about Laura Bonny. She had a boyfriend that no-one knew about, except her sister. Her sister, Anne, didn't know his name, but she thought that Laura had broken it off with him a few days ago, and he wasn't too happy about that. Other than that, Laura led a very boring life; she worked as a secretary for the Assistant DA while she was putting herself through law school. Her job and school combined, she didn't have a lot of time for a social life. Which is why Emma's sitting here, alone at her desk, combing through Laura's e-mails and phone records, while Tech Operator Aurora Williams was at her fiancé, Philip's, desk, helping her out by going through her financial records. Aurora used to be made fun of for her name, until she met Philip, who rather liked it and called her 'Beauty'. After that, no-one really mocked Aurora for her name, because everyone stopped calling her by it when her friend, Det. Jamie Mulan, who shared her pain for inheriting a fairytale name, started calling her 'Rory'. Since then, nearly everyone in the precinct almost forgot Rory's real name.

"Emma." Rory calls from across the room. "I think got something."

Emma struts across the room, stopping at Det. Philip Smith's desk, and looking down at the computer screen.

"You see here," Rory gestures to the screen, "every day for the past two weeks, Laura had been going to a coffee shop on Central Park West, same time, every day. One p.m."

"And?"

"And, the point is that that's nowhere near where she worked or lived." Rory concludes. "It's worth checking out."

"You're right. Thanks Rory!" Emma shouts heading for her desk, grabbing her coat, her phone ringing as she does so.

"Swan." She answers, slinging on her blazer.

"Emma?" A woman answers in an Australian accent. "It's Belle. I have the results of the victim's toxicology report."

"Great. I'll stop by on my way to Central Park West. Thanks Belle." She ends the call, immediately dialling Graham's number.

"Humbert." He answers.

"It's Emma. Belle had the tox report ready on Laura Bonny. And I got a lead. Meet me at the crime lab in ten."

"'Kay. I'll see you there." He states, hanging up.

* * *

"Hey Belle." Emma greets the toxicology specialist, entering the spacious crime lab on the 36th floor of one of New York's skyscrapers, with Graham in tow. "What did the tox screen show?"

"Hey guys." She reciprocates. "Well, she had no alcohol in her system, but I did find ketamine in her system."

"She was drugged." Graham concludes, and Belle nods in response.

"My guess is that whoever abducted her sedated her, and then took her to wherever he killed and re-dressed her. Speaking of dresses, Ruby's working on the dress she was wearing now. She said she should have something within the hour." Belle replies.

"Tell her to call me if she finds anything." She says, turning to her partner. "For now, you and I are going to get coffee. Thanks Belle!" She calls, walking towards the elevators, pulling Graham by the hand.

* * *

Emma and her partner enter the door of the coffee shop, immediately heading up to the counter. Emma, taking charge as she always does, holds up her shield, the numbers 3366 embossed on the bottom.

"NYPD. I need your help with something." She asks the female barista, who is currently making googly eyes as Graham.

"Sure thing. Anything to help the boys in blue." She replies, her eyes still locked on Graham's face. Emma, seeing that she can so nothing to regain the woman's attention, lets Graham take the lead. _Once._

"Have you seen this woman in here before?" He inquires, holding up Laura Bonny's DMV photo. "She would have been in here everyday for the past two weeks, at around one pm."

The woman looks at the photo for a brief second, flicking her eyes back to the handsome Irishman a split second later. "Yeah, I've seen her around. She was here with some guy."

"A guy?" Emma asks, intrigued.

"Yeah." The woman says, tearing her gaze from Graham's to meet Emma's. "I think he's some famous dude. Real cute, too. Got an accent, as well, quite like yours, sweetheart." She says, looking back at the other Detective's, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. "They got into a pretty heated discussion a few days ago. Haven't seen him in here since."

"You said he was famous?" Graham asks, smiling at the woman. At the office, the man was the resident McDreamy. Right now, it was sickening for Emma to watch, not because she was jealous or anything, but because it was really, really, uncomfortable to watch. But hey, if it gets them their first suspect, she's all for it.

"Yeah. A writer. I think his name is Killian Jones." The barista replies.

"Killian Jones. Thank you, uh, I didn't catch your name..."

"Hollie. Hollie Marks." She answers, scribbling down her number on a napkin, handing it to Graham. "Call me." She winks, prompting Emma to not-so-subtly roll her eyes.

"Well, thank you, Hollie." Graham smiles, turning to leave, and Emma follows.

When they are safely clear of the coffee shop, Emma bursts out into a fit of giggles.

"What?" Graham asks.

"Are you going to call her?" Emma looks at him funnily, trying not to laugh again. _Trying. _

Graham knows that he and Emma aren't exclusive, and with Emma's clear amusement, he wasn't about to accuse her of being jealous. "No." He replies, crumpling up the green piece of tissue. "We got the information, didn't we?"

Emma nods, holding back tears of laughter. "That's ten."

"Ten?"

"Ten girls who have given you their numbers during a case. Since the start of this year, Graham. _This year. _It's February." Emma laughs. "And, as I recall, one of them was married, and another turned out to be a guy."

Graham smiles. "I can't help my smouldering looks and irresistible personality."

"Yeah, Graham, your personality earns you the numbers of countless women every week." Emma laughs sarcastically, dialling a number on her phone.

"Who are you calling?" He asks.

Emma hushes him by putting a gloved finger to her lips.

"David? I need you to run down a guy for me." Emma asks the third detective on their team through the phone. "Killian Jones."

"That author that Snow likes?" David's muffled voice counters. "Yeah, I can do that. You want me to bring him in?"

"Nah, me and Graham are out anyway. Just text me his address and we'll pick him up. Thanks David."

A few minutes later, Emma's phone buzzed, indicating an incoming text message.

"Upper West Side. Let's go." Emma says, reading the text message out loud.

* * *

When they arrive at the huge loft in a five story-apartment block, Emma takes the lead as she always does and knocks quickly at the door. When the man- presumably Killian Jones- answers the door, Emma struggles to maintain her composure. Okay, the barista said that he was cute, but _Good Lord. _The man was an Adonis. His tousled ebony hair, his hint of a beard ghosting his jaw line, and his eyes. Oh_ God, his eyes. _They were like sapphires, burning a hole in her soul as he stared into her own green ones.

"Can I help you?" He asks, as Emma still stares, positively gobsmacked.

"Uh, yes. Are you Killian Jones?" Emma asks, finally finding the composure to speak.

"Yes. Can I help you with something?" He counters.

"Uh, NYPD. I'm Detective Emma Swan and this is Detective Graham Humbert. We need you to come down town for a few questions." She answers, still struggling to stay standing as his eyes stay locked onto hers.

"What's this about?" He asks, standing fully out from behind the door, almost causing Emma to faint in all his glory. He was dressed simply in a white t-shirt and black jeans, but the shirt was so figure-hugging, Emma could easily see that the man had a six-pack, _at least. _"You here to arrest me, love?" He smirks, winking at the same time.

_Great, _Emma thinks, _He just had to open his pretty little mouth and say something like that. _

"Not exactly." She replies sternly. "We need to ask you a few questions about Laura Bonny."

"Laura?" He asks, slightly surprised. "Has something happened to her?"

"Yes. She was found murdered in Central Park this morning." Emma says, her tone slightly sympathetic.

"Bloody Hell." He exclaims, his hand covering his mouth. "Yeah, I'll come with you. Let me just grab my, uh, jacket."

He disappears into the loft, returning seconds later sporting a leather jacket that looks like it cost as much as the two detectives make in a year._ It makes him look good, though,_ Emma thinks.

* * *

They drive to the precinct in silence, Emma driving, per usual, Graham and Killian in the back seat.

When they arrive at the 12th, Emma and Graham led the writer upstairs to the interrogation room.

"Please, take a seat, Mr. Jones." Emma says politely, gesturing to the chair facing the gigantic mirror that faces into the room. Emma is the writer's lone companion in the room, with Graham and David positioned behind the mirror, listening intently to the interrogation.

"Why am I in an interrogation room?" He asks, his arm slung over the back of the chair.

"You should know," Emma counters, "you've seen your fair share of them. Drunk and Disorderly, Disturbing the Peace, Indecent Exposure...quite the rap sheet you've got here, Mr. Jones." Emma reads, smiling at the author.

"What can I say," he replies coolly, "I'm a man of many talents. But if you read further, you'll see all those charges were dropped, and that an incident involving yours truly hasn't occurred in years."

"Until today." Emma retaliates, drawing a photo of Laura Bonny at the crime scene out of the folder she has in front of her, showing it to the writer.

His facial expression changes immediately. His cocky grin disappears from his face, replaced with a frown. "Gods. What the hell happened to her?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Emma asks confidently, earning a puzzled look from Killian. "We found this at the crime scene." She continues, presenting the sheet of paper to him. "Do you recognise it?"

"Of course I recognise it! It's a page out of my book!" He exclaims. "You don't think I had something to do with her murder, do you?"

"A waitress at a café on Central Park West says she saw you having a 'heated discussion' with the victim in the days before her death. Can you explain that?" Emma asks him, not answering his question.

"Yes. Uh, Laura was a friend of mine. She was helping me with some research I was doing." He replies shakily. "We had a slight disagreement about some of the information I was writing about."

"A 'slight disagreement'? I think it was more than that, Mr. Jones." Emma responds. "I think..." She whispers, leaning closer to her opponent. "...that you and Ms. Bonny were in a relationship. And when she broke it off, you killed her." She continues bluntly.

"What? No!" Killian exclaims. "Laura and I were friends, like I told you. She was helping me research the history of piracy."

"Piracy?" Emma replies, slightly taken aback by the subject. "Why would a law student know anything about pirates?"

He chuckles. "Her name is _Bonny. _She's a direct descendant of Anne Bonny, the greatest female pirate that ever lived. She was giving me insight into her ancestors' history as a pirate, for a side project I'm working on." He answers. "But, I will tell you this, Detective Swan, she did have a boyfriend, but to my knowledge, broke it off a few days ago."

"Do you happen to know this boyfriend's name?" Emma questions.

"No. But I suggest you check her apartment. I remember seeing a photo of him somewhere around there." He smirks.

Emma get up off her seat, strutting to the door, feeling Killian's eyes follow her out.

"Did you check out his alibi?" Emma asks the two men emerging from the observation room, heading into the break room.

"Yeah." David says. "It clears him. He was playing poker with the mayor and Judge Markham until 3am this morning."

"Great." Emma replies. "I was looking forward to throwing his smug ass in jail."

Graham laughs before saying, "I'll grab Belle, go check out her apartment."

"Yeah, call me if you find anything." She tells her colleague.

"I'll go cut writer boy loose." David says as his partner leaves.

Emma nods before heading back to her desk with her coffee. She sits there quietly as Killian Jones walks, cool as a breeze, out of the precinct, his eyes locked on her the whole time.

* * *

_Hope you guys liked it! I'll have another chapter up later this week. Happy New Year to all of you guys! Review? :3_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

_Hi! Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favourites on this! Enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

"Swan." Captain Regina Mills calls from the door of her office. "I need to speak to you. Now."

Emma groaned, reluctantly pushing herself off the side of her desk, walking towards her boss' office. David was out talking to the victim's boss, the Assistant DA, and Graham was still with Belle at the victim's apartment. Emma had been cooped up in the precinct, staring at the murder board located beside her desk, looking for something she'd missed.

The captain of the 12th precinct, Regina Mills, is a former Internal Affairs investigator, and was the youngest cop ever made detective until Emma Swan came along, and was assigned to be captain of the 12th just over four months ago.

"Captain?" Emma asks, stepping into the oak-furnished office.

"Detective Swan. I just got a call from Killian Jones, the suspect you arrested earlier today. He asked to be brought onto the case as a consultant." Regina replies bluntly.

"What? For what reason?" Emma inquires, bothered that the handsome blue-eyed devil wanted to be brought onto this case. _Her case._

"He said it was 'research'. Even got the Chief of Detectives to back up his request." Regina sighs. The woman did not like outsiders in her precinct.

"Smug bastard." Emma says coldly.

"Indeed. The reason I'm telling you this, Emma, is because he specifically asked to shadow _you._" The Captain informs.

"Great." Emma chuckles. "I'm headed home now, ma'am, I'll start fresh in the morning. Tell him I'll pick him up at his apartment at 8:30 tomorrow morning."

"You can call him yourself, detective." She says, handing me a slip of paper. "He's your partner, after all."

Emma rolls her eyes at the sound of the word 'partner'. Emma Swan did not like having a partner, temporary or not. She was more of a lone wolf. She dials the number on the slip of paper on the way out to her car. He answers after the first ring.

"Hello?" He says in his musky Irish accent, which sounds very little like Graham's, despite that fact that they are from the same tiny island.

"Jones? It's Detective Swan." She replies. "I heard you manipulated your way into my case." She finishes, glaring at the bright February sunlight reflecting off the roof of her police-issue midnight blue sedan.

"That I did, Swan. You calling to brief me on the case?" He answers, and she can practically feel his smirk through the phone.

"No. I'm calling to tell you I'll pick you up tomorrow morning at eight thirty. I'm headed home now, so don't bother going to the precinct. I'll call you if anything changes." She says, hearing him open his mouth to answer, but she abruptly cuts him off by ending the call.

* * *

Emma had returned to her apartment before her phone rings again. _Please don't let it be work. _She thinks, putting down the glass of wine she had just filled for herself. _Graham. Great. _"Hello?" She answers, hoping that Graham found nothing and she could just finish her drink and go to sleep.

"Swan. Belle and I just finished processing the vic's apartment. Found a few photos. I'm back at the precinct running facial rec on them now, but I probably won't have results 'till morning." She breathes a sigh of relief. "Hey, I heard you got a new partner."

"Goodnight Graham." She laughs, not wanting to talk about her incredibly gorgeous, smug, annoying jackass of a temporary partner.

"Mom?" A small voice pipes up.

Emma looks around to see her dark-haired hazel-eyed eleven-year-old son entering the room from his small bedroom. She adopted Henry after his birth mother, a friend of hers named Lara, had died in childbirth. She didn't know who Henry's father was, so she took him in as her own, but, him being the over-perceptive child that he is, had found out that he was adopted a few months ago, but that didn't change his relationship with his mother in the slightest. "Yeah, sweetie?" She coos, half-turning to meet her son's eyes.

"Can you make me some cocoa?" He asks innocently, his eyes bleary from being in his room, reading for the hours since he had come home from school.

"Sure thing." She replies, placing her glass beside the sink. Henry sits himself down on one of the stools that sit behind their kitchen island as his mom gets to work making his hot chocolate.

"You okay, mom?" He asks after a minute, noticing Emma's tensed muscles.

"Yeah." She lies. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. What's bothering you?" He determines.

She sighs. "I got a new partner today."

"Oh." Henry replies, grimacing. He knows how much his mother hates having an 'official partner', or a new team member. "Do you like them?"

"Not even in the slightest, Henry." She assures, although that isn't entirely true. She likes how he looks, but nothing more. "He's not even a cop!" She laughs.

"Then why is he your partner?"

"He was a suspect in the case I'm working on, and when he was cleared, he decides to call the chief of detectives and asks to be my partner on the case." Emma replies, mixing the cocoa powder into the hot milk.

"Sounds like he likes you, mom." Henry winks behind his mother's back.

"Well, if he does, he has great taste." She laughs, placing the black mug in front of her son.

"Thanks." He says, chuckling slightly. "If he's not a cop, then what is he?"

"You're gonna love this, Henry." Emma laughs. "He's a writer. A good one, at that. At least, that's what I've heard."

"Really? Anything I might have read? I do read a lot." He states.

"Yeah, kid, you do. His name is Killian Jones." Emma answers, smiling at her son.

"Killian Jones?" Henry smiles, leaping off the seat and sprinting towards his room, emerging a few seconds later carrying a brown book with gold writing across the front. "He wrote one of my favourite books!" He exclaims, handing her the book. "You think you can get him to sign it for me?"

"I can sure try, kid." She says, flicking through the pages of the book, while her son drains the last of his hot beverage.

"I'm going to bed. I've got a math test in the morning." He says. Emma had always admired her son's motivation for learning. When she was a kid, she switched schools so many times that she stopped worrying about what the teacher was staying and usually spent most of her free time away from her foster home at the library, which is how she managed to get into college, majoring in criminal justice.

"'Kay. Night, kid." She says, ruffling her son's hair and watching him retreat into his bedroom.

Emma, letting out a yawn, decides to turn in for the night as well. So, the homicide detective drifts off to sleep in the room beside her son. That night, she dreams of the ocean.

* * *

She is awakened the next morning, as she usually is, by the sound of her phone ringing. The clock on her lock screen says it's 6:30, while the caller ID says it's David calling.

"Swan." She answers sleepily, pressing her iPhone to her ear.

"Emma, we got another one. I'll text you the address." His muffled voice replies.

"M'kay. I have to pick up writer boy first, so I'll be about half an hour." She responds, yawning.

"Writer boy?" He asks, surprised. "Did his alibi fall through?"

"Graham didn't tell you?" I say. "I got a new partner."

Emma hangs up before the other detective has time to respond. Quickly dressing, not having time to co-ordinate her outfit this morning, and stepping out of her room, she sees that Henry's door is still shut, so she decides to leave him a note.

_Henry, I got to go to work. If you need me, call me. Be good. Mom. :) _

Grabbing an apple from the basket on the table, her coat and laptop case that has her phone and money in it, and the book she had left out last night, she leaves the apartment, needing to make it to the other side of Manhattan and back to the crime scene, in rush hour traffic, in thirty minutes. Her police-issue Chevy was parked in the underground parking lot, so she had to run down the six floors to get to her car.

The drive to Killian Jones' apartment should have taken no more than ten minutes on a normal day, but with it coming up to the holidays and people who aren't working heading to do their shopping early, the journey took twenty minutes, and Emma still had to wake the writer up early and get to the crime scene.

When she had called to his apartment yesterday, she hadn't gotten even a glimpse of the inside of the Upper West Side apartment, but she imagined it as a modernised, pristine, cold place, but when Killian Jones answered the door in his tartan pyjama pants and black t-shirt, she saw quite the opposite.

"Detective Swan?" He greets sleepily. "I thought you were going to pick me up at half eight?"

"Change of plans. We got another body. Central Park." Emma replied, and the writer immediately sprung to attention.

"Another body?" He asks excitedly. "Could it be a serial killer?"

Emma looks at him with a confused look. Confused, because she had never been that excited about someone losing their life before, but this man responds to murder with a childlike enthusiasm. "Why don't we go down to the crime scene and see?" She coos, responding to Killian's tone of voice the same way she would respond to Henry when he got excited about something.

Her accent calmed him down a little. "Well, come in. I'll be ready in five. There's fresh coffee in the pot, I think."

"Thanks." Emma replies, stepping into the room. The decor was much different from what she was expecting, and the company was a far cry from what she had predicted.

"Neal?" She exclaims, shocked at seeing her former flame in the kitchen.

He almost dropped the pot of coffee that he was holding when he spotted the blonde. "Emma?" He yelled, putting the jug onto the counter top, running a hand through his brown hair after he did so.

"Neal?" A softer, bell-like voice questions as a blonde-haired woman descends the stairs.

"Tink?" Neal responds, a worried tone peppering his voice.

"Killian." The Irishman pipes up behind her, a laugh escaping his lips, earning a disapproving look from everyone in the tension-filled room. "Sorry, always wanted to do that." He defends, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"Emma, what are you doing here?" Neal asks, approaching the detective.

"I came to pick up writer boy here," she answers, gesturing to the man behind her, "he's a consultant on a case I'm working." She continues. "What about you, Neal?"

"I'm here with, uh, Tink." He says, nodding to the woman behind him, prompting Emma to raise a questioning eyebrow. "My girlfriend."

The final statement shocks Emma. She closes her eyes and shakes her eyes in resignation. "Girlfriend." She laughs, her voice shaking slightly.

"Would someone like to explain what's going on? 'Cos I'd really like to know." The woman says in an Australian accent.

"As do I." Killian agrees.

Emma sighs. She never expected to see Neal again, nor did she want to. She shakes her head once again, turning to her temporary partner and saying, "Neal- Neal is my ex-fiancé."

Killian's eyes widen at the statement. "Ex-fiancé?" He echoes, running a hand through his jet-black hair. _He clearly figured out that Neal and I didn't leave our relationship on the best of terms. _Emma thinks.

"Ex-fiancé?" The other woman- Tink- says, her arms folded across her chest, her eyes locked on Neal's.

Neal nods weakly, while Emma turns to Killian and Tink and asks, "And how do you two know each other?"

"You'd know if you read my blog, Swan." He quips.

"Before yesterday, Jones, I only knew you as a guy who wrote a book that my son loves, so don't flatter yourself." Emma replies, her anger bubbling up more and more with each breath.

"Your- son?" He questions shakily.

"What, just because I'm a cop means I can't be a mother?" Emma seethes.

"I just, uh, thought..that...uh..." He stammers.

"Oh, God. He's not yours, is it, Neal?" Tink asks.

"No! Tink, no! He's Emma's, not mine!" He assures.

"Oh, well, you sure didn't have a problem with him calling you 'dad', did you, Neal?" Emma says hotly. _I didn't get a chance to confront him after we broke up, so I may as well get it out now. _Emma thinks. "Did you even stop to think, for one minute, that I wasn't the only one you hurt when you took off? Henry didn't leave his room for two weeks after you left!" She yells. "He looked up to you! You were the closest thing he ever had to a father, and you left!" She finishes, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes. "You know what? Screw this. I'll wait for you downstairs, Jones."

"Emma, wait!" She hears Neal call as she storms out of the apartment. "Wait!"

"What?" Emma shouts back at him, the tears threatening to fall.

"Let me explain." He bellows, stopping Emma in her tracks.

"I don't want or need an explanation from you." She yells in response, her chin wobbling. _I won't cry. I can't cry. _

"Emma please..." He begs, taking a small, cautious step towards her, as if she was some wild animal.

"No! You don't get to speak." She says confidently, quieting down slightly. "Do you have any idea how you made me feel? How you made _Henry _feel? He couldn't understand why you would do something that hurt me. That hurt both of us." She continues, her voice taking on a threatening tone. "Four years, Neal. _Four. _I _know _you loved him. He was like your own son. And you still left him. You broke his heart. His sweet, pure, undamaged heart. He didn't need to know what it was like to feel abandoned at such a young age. I didn't want him to feel the same way I did when I was a kid. So save me your 'Sorry' speech. I don't want to hear it. You broke my son's heart, and you broke mine." She concludes, turning and heading toward the stairs.

With her head held high, and her jaw clamped tight, she stood waiting for the man who got her into this mess to get a move on by her car, parked near the doors of the apartment building. When she sees her temporary partner exit the building in front of her, she immediately walks around the front of the car and clambers into her seat, starting the engine.

On the ten-minute car journey, she refuses to think about the man who betrayed and abandoned her and her son. That doesn't stop the argument occasionally resurfacing in her mind. Killian stays quiet as well, processing what just happened.

"My sister." He says after a few minutes, turning his gaze to the blonde detective in the driver's seat.

"Excuse me?" She replies, her voice shaking.

"I realised I never answered your question. Tink is my sister. Step-sister, actually, which is why she sounds Australian and I'm Irish. My mother married her father when I was ten, and when she was eight." He sighs.

"Oh." She says, pulling the car into park beside a blue and white police cruiser. "Not a word of this to my team, understood?" She orders, pointing a finger at the writer, who complies, stepping out of the car, and following the green-eyed beauty towards the body.

"Morning, Swan." Graham greets, holding the crime scene tape up for the two people. "You must be Killian Jones, correct?" He asks, extending his hands to the outsider.

"Yeah. And you are?" Killian replies.

"Detective Graham Humbert." He answers. "What part of Ireland are you from?" Killian looks at him with a surprised look. "What, you don't think I know an Irish accent when I hear one?"

The writer laughs. "I'm from Drogheda. What about you?"

"Belfast." He replies simply.

"Now that you two know each other's life history, can we get to the body?" Emma says sarcastically, not hiding her emotions very well.

"Uh, sure." Graham says, approaching the other member of their team, Mary-Margaret, and a large tree where the body lay at the base of it."

"What do we got here?" She asks no-one in particular.

Mary-Margaret is the one to answer, still staring intently at the body, which is dressed as another fairy-tale character: Cinderella, complete with glass slippers. "Clara West, twenty-five, real-estate agent. A dog owner found her this morning while taking the dog for a walk. Same MO as the other victim." She concludes, standing up and turning to face the group. "Oh, my." She says in surprise when she sees Killian. "Are you Killian Jones, the writer?" She asks, prompting Emma to roll her eyes at her friend. "I'm a big fan of your books. I've read 'Conspiracy' at least three times."

"It's always nice to meet a fan. And you are?" He replies, drawing his hands from his pockets and lifting her hand to place a chaste kiss on her knuckles, earning a blush from Snow, and a death glare from David. Even though David and Mary-Margaret aren't dating, they always get jealous when the other has a new love interest, and it's very clear that they are both head-over-heels in love with each other, but neither will admit it.

"Mary-Margaret Blanchard." She answers. "I'm the ME."

"I never thought a person who works with dead bodies all day could look as radiant as you, Mary-Margaret." He says, watching a blush creep up her cheeks, as David's face turns into one of pure loathing.

"Maggie." Emma interrupts. "TOD?"

"Right!" She exclaims, breaking herself out of Killian's trance. "Judging by lavidity, I would estimate TOD at two to four am this morning." She says, smiling at the writer, before catching a glimpse of David's contempt over Killian's shoulder. "I'll have to wait 'till I get her back to the morgue before I pin down the exact time. Also, it looks like the victim was dressed post-mortem, but I found something else." She says, crouching beside the body again, motioning Emma and Killian to do the same. With her pen, she pushes down the neckline of the light blue dress, revealing a message written in black: _When the clock strikes twelve..._

"That mean anything to you, Jones?" Emma asks.

"Well, it's a chapter out of one of my books." He answers. "Nothing else springs to mind, except that it's from Cinderella."

"His book seems to be the obvious connection between the two murders." David concludes.

"What does he mean by that?" Killian inquires.

"We found a page that was torn out of one of your books at the first crime scene." Emma answers, pulling the book that Henry had given to her last night, opening the page that was found at the last crime scene.

"You have my book?" He smirks.

"Don't flatter yourself, it's my son's." She retorts, handing him the open page. "We found this page near Laura's body."

He quickly scans the page, looking for anything of importance. "There's nothing special about this page. I wrote it in a few minutes. Same with the chapter on Cinderella. Didn't take me long."

"Maybe it's the characters." David suggests. "Maybe the fairytale is the most important thing in his delusion, and your book is just a way to project it into the real world."

"The book does switch between both worlds." Mary-Margaret agrees.

"Is there anything that both these characters have in common?" Emma asks the writer.

"Uh, they both come from well-off backgrounds, but were forced into poverty by a stepmother, they both married into royalty, they were both victims of the same curse, they both found their Prince Charmings..." Killian explains, and Emma sees Mary-Margaret glance over at David, her own personal Prince Charming.

"Prince Charmings..." Emma repeats.

"What was that, Ems?" Graham asks.

"Just, uh, that the first victim's sister said she broke up with her boyfriend a few days before her murder. And Maggie, you said that the wounds look like they were caused by a violent outburst, a crime of passion." Emma explains, and the group nods their heads. "What if this killer thinks that he is the victim's Prince Charming? That would explain the rage exhibited by the stab wounds, the story..."

"That would make sense...in a sick way, of course." Mary-Margaret agrees.

"I'll go back to the station, go through her phone records and e-mails again." Graham offers.

"I'll go talk to Clara West's family, see if they know anything about a boyfriend." David says, following his partner back towards the cars.

"I'll take the body back to the morgue. I'll call you if I find anything." Mary-Margaret tells the two remaining people.

"'Kay." Emma says, turning to Killian. "You and I are going to the victim's apartment. Hopefully we'll find something there." She tells him. "Ruby!" She shouts towards the brunette CSI.

"Yeah?" Ruby shouts back, running towards Emma and Killian.

"We're going to the vic's apartment. I need my favourite CSI to accompany us." She winks.

"Oh, I don't know..." The woman says. "You're gonna owe me a drink. Or three." She finishes, but the statement is directed at the writer.

"Fine. Let's go." Emma agrees, rolling her eyes at Ruby winking at Killian.

* * *

The apartment was a half-hour away, and the car ride was spent with Ruby flirting shamelessly with Killian. Emma didn't register any of it though, she was too lost in her own thoughts on what happened this morning. She never wanted to see Neal again, let alone Neal with his new girlfriend and her brother, who is her partner...at least for a while. She was too absent-minded to see Killian Jones stealing glances at the blonde every minute. Ruby saw it, though, and while she was still flirting, she had absolutely no intention of ever taking it further than that. She saw the look in the writer's eyes, a look of worry and caring.

The vic's apartment was on the second floor of the building, and the manager let Emma and her companions in. The building had no elevator, so Ruby had to carry her crime-scene kit up the stairs carefully, making sure she didn't break anything. Killian offered to help her, but Ruby was extremely possessive over her kit, so she readily refused.

The apartment was not much bigger than Emma's apartment, so it shouldn't be that hard to search it. Ruby started her search in the kitchen, and Killian and Emma took the bedroom. The walls were painted a warm apple-red, with paintings strung up on the wall and orange sheets on the bed. Emma began her search in the closet, searching through the victim's vast array of pant suits and t-shirts. Killian was searching the drawers in the desk, bedside locker and under the bed. He picked up a photo of the victim and a young dark-haired boy. "How old is he?" He inquires quietly, nevertheless getting Emma's attention. "Your son."

"Eleven." Emma replies simply.

"Eleven?" He questions. "That would have made you-"

"Eighteen. I was eighteen." She finishes, looking down at the ground. The only people who knew that Henry wasn't her biological son were David, Graham, Mary-Margaret, Captain Mills, and Neal. She intended to keep it that way.

A piece of paper fluttered out of the blazer that Emma was holding. She crouched down to pick it up, earning Killian's attention. "You find something, Swan?" He asks.

"Maybe." She replies, examining the photo in her hand, turning it over to look at the back. _555-0121. Huh. _She thinks, picking up her phone and handing the picture to Killian. "Rory. I need you to run down a number for me. 555-0121. Thanks."

"I didn't find much in the kitchen or living room. What about you guys?" Ruby asks, entering the room.

"Just this." Killian says, handing the photo to the CSI.

"I'll take it back to the lab and run it for prints and DNA." She replies, turning to leave.

Emma asks, "Run facial rec on the guy in the photo, too, will you? Could be someone worth talking to."

"Yes ma'am." Ruby answers, leaving the room.

"We better get going. Graham's probably bored out of his mind searching through those e-mails." Emma laughs, snapping off the black latex gloves and leaving the apartment.

"Can we stop for coffee?" Killian asks childishly.

"Only if you're good, writer boy."

* * *

_Review?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

_I am so, so, sorry about being so incredibly late with this. Forgive me? :3_

* * *

The number had come from a burn phone, making it impossible to track, and there were no foreign DNA on the photo, although they did find a partial print on the corner of the photo, but it hadn't gotten any hits in AFIS. Facial rec, however, was a different story. The photo was a picture of the victim and one Peter Kay, an English guy that had been living in Manhattan for years. The family of the second victim, Clara West, her sister and brother, identified him as Clara's college boyfriend. They broke up near the end of their junior year, after being a couple for two years. After that, Kay had stalked her, leading to Clara getting a restraining order against him.

Graham pulled his phone and financial records, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Nevertheless, Emma went to his apartment to talk to him, reluctantly dragging Killian Jones behind her, when he bolted straight down the fire escape. _Great. I hate unnecessary chases, _she thought."Stop! Police!" She shouted after him, climbing out the fire escape after him. "Jones! Go around the side and cut him off!" She yelled at her companion, before continuing the hunt. She was three-quarters of the way down the fire escape when Kay jumped off the metal ladder, landing straight down on the pavement, on his feet, and taking off running again. The man was like a monkey. Five seconds later, Emma followed him, leaping off the fire escape, but landing less-than-gracefully on the pavement below, her knees buckled and Emma landed on the ground with a loud _thump._ When she looked up, however, Peter Kay was laying on the ground just ahead of her, groaning, clutching his chest. Standing over him was none other than Killian Jones, the late evening light gracing his glorious leather-clad form as he looks at Emma and smiles.

She stands up then, brushing dust from the front of her shirt. "We make a good team, don't we?" Killian asks her with a smile. A beautiful, radiant, wide smile that just lights up his face, which Emma mirrors before yanking Peter Kay up from the ground and slapping a pair of handcuffs on him.

She throws him into the back seat of her Impala, shut the door and turns around to get into the driver's seat, but instead she bumps into Jones, who is standing inches away from her, blocking her path. "You've got a little something on your face, Swan." He almost-whispers, his own face millimetres from hers. He reaches up to her cheekbone, using his thumb to brush away the dirt that had transferred to her face, his hand lingering on her skin for a second longer than it needed to. He smirks at the response the gesture elicits from the detective: her breath momentarily catches in her throat, and he can feel the heat rising to the surface of her flawless face, causing her skin to turn slightly more pink than it normally is. He pulls away after that, his eyes still locked onto hers, his hand inches from hers. Her eyes are darker than they normally would be, her pupils dilated slightly. His are not much different. "We should, uh, get back to the precinct." He suggests, his mind still reeling. _Why did I just do that? _He thinks to himself.

"Yeah." Emma agrees, her brow furrowing in thought. _Why did he just do that? __Was he going to kiss me? No. Emma stop. He was only trying to save you from the embarrassment of showing up to the precinct with dirt on your face. That's it. _She tells herself.

The car ride back is quiet, the only sound being the gentle hiss of air coming from the car heaters. _This has been one eventful day. _Emma thinks to herself, recalling this morning's festivities and now this?

When she and Killian return to the precinct, Emma throws Kay into interrogation, allowing him to sit there for a while. She sits at her desk and calls Mary-Margaret, who should be done with the autopsy by now. "Hey Maggie. You find anything during the autopsy?" Emma asks when the woman answers.

"Actually, yes-" She manages to answer, before Emma abruptly cuts her off.

"I'll be right there." She says, sprinting out of the 12th before anyone could see her.

* * *

"Emma, you know that I could have just told you this over the phone." Mary-Margaret greets as her and her best friend enter the morgue through the double doors. Ruby was at the other end of the room, talking with the other ME that Emma and her team frequently work with, Victor Whale. It was no secret that Ruby had more than a little crush on Whale, but most of the time the man was so blinded by his affections for Mary-Margaret that he never noticed Ruby's constant giggling and hair-flipping. So, now Ruby stood inches away from the man, laughing and throwing out more flirtation signals than a divorcée on a singles cruise. "But the body's not your primary concern, is it? That's why you didn't bring your 'partner'." Mary-Margaret deduces.

"Yes, okay? But tell me about the body first." Emma replies, giving herself more time to figure out what Jones had done earlier in the day, and her encounter with Neal and his new girlfriend.

"Fine. I got the blood work back on the second vic. Positive for ketamine, just like Laura Bonny." She begins. "When I examined her wounds, they seem to have the same wound tract as Ms. Bonny. Same weapon, I presume. But this is the weird part," She says, pulling back the white sheet off the victim's face, "I found traces of saliva on her forehead. I already gave it to Ruby to analyse."

"Saliva?" Emma repeats. "That's weird. Sounds like the killer felt remorse for killing her. Proves my theory that they knew each other."

"He's contradicting himself, first presenting enough organizational skills to drug his victims, then killing them in a violent rage, then showing remorse by kissing them on the forehead, and then dressing them up as fairytale characters? This guy is seriously crazy." Mary-Margaret suggests.

"Could be an indicator of a mental disorder of some kind." Emma agrees. "Anything else?"

"Nope." The ME answers. "Now why are you _really _down here, Em?"

She sighs, bracing herself for her best friend's never-ending list of questions. "I ran into Neal today. No, I ran into Neal _and his girlfriend _today."

The questions that she thought she would be bombarded with never came. Mary-Margaret just stood there, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, trying to come up with a coherent statement. "Oh." She whispers. "And, uh, what happened?"

"We had a screaming match. In front of Jones and Neal's new girlfriend, who happens to be Jones' sister, by the way." Emma smiles sarcastically. "And then, when Jones and I picked up a suspect, he brushed some dirt off my face! And it wasn't just 'oh, Swan, you have a bit of dirt on your face', it was this whole thing where he stared straight into my eyes and wiped the dirt of my face himself! Can you believe that?!" Emma exclaims to the now-empty morgue.

"Sounds like he likes you, Emma." Mary-Margaret smiles.

"Ha! Yeah right! A successful, gorgeous guy like him? Yeah, that would happen." Emma scoffs.

"Emma, honey, I know that you don't want to admit it to yourself, but you are a beautiful, smart, amazing human being and nothing will ever change that. I mean, Ems, you even got Graham-freaking-Humbert to sleep with you. That man is practically sex-on-legs. Most of the women in the precinct would like to have done that." She whispers. "So, it's not a surprise to me that Killian Jones is attracted to you. And there is not a doubt in my mind that you feel the same way. You just won't admit it to yourself."

Emma laughs. "This coming from Miss I'm-not-in-love-with-David-Nolan." A shocked expression paints the ME's face. "Oh, come on! It's not like either of you are fooling anyone! You haven't had a date in months because you're waiting for him to ask you. And not for lack of attention, either. Whale is constantly asking you out, but you constantly decline because of David!" She exclaims. "And David...he's head-over-heels in love with you, Maggie, and he has been since the day you met. So you two should just get over yourselves and go out already!"

"You know what?" Mary-Margaret says after a silent minute, "You're right. I should just march up to him and ask him out! It shouldn't be that hard."

"Good. Now I'm going back to the precinct, but you better be over at my place tonight. We are _so _not finished talking." Emma says, rushing out the door, leaving a very determined Mary-Margaret in her wake.

* * *

"Look. Look at her, Kay. Cold. Dead." Emma says to the suspect, slapping a picture of Clara West onto the table while the man sits, staring. Killian and David watch her, admiring her interrogation tactics, from the observation room. "You did that to her. You drugged her, murdered her, and then dressed her as Cinderella. Then you dumped her body in Central Park. Just like you did with your most recent girlfriend, Laura." She continues, her voice muffled by the wall in between her and the two men. She pauses, walking around the table. "They're both dead, and you're to blame."

"I didn't do it! I swear!" He yells, his demeanour changing from a quiet, grief-stricken man, to a man that was most likely the ruthless killer that murdered two women.

"Yes you did! I have your DNA on Clara's body! And judging by the MO and your personal relationship to the first victim, I'm sure that the jury will rule that you took the lives of both these women. And why? Because they couldn't handle your mood swings." Emma sighs. "I found an ER report that shows that both women frequently visited the ER with broken bones, noses, and black eyes while they were dating _you_, Kay. So just confess and maybe we can cut a deal."

"Fine. I killed them." He whispered. Emma had been in there for less than ten minutes and had already broken the suspect.

"Write." She says, sliding a pen and paper over to him, staying still while he wrote.

"She truly is remarkable, isn't she?" Killian asks, turning to David.

"Yeah, she is." He replies. And that's as far as the conversation went when another homicide detective, Robin Shade, enters the room.

"She get him to confess already?" He observes, turning to the coffee maker behind them and filling up his mug.

"Yeah." David answers simply, turning to the other man. "Robin, this is Killian Jones, he's consulting on the case."

"Ah, yes, the writer Jamie keeps talking about. Detective Robin Shade." He says, extending a hand to the man. Robin was Detective Jamie Mulan's partner, and had been a Marine sniper before joining the NYPD.

"Pleasure." Killian replies as Emma enters the room.

"Never seen you break a suspect that fast." David chuckles.

"Must be a new record." She replies.

David leaves the room as Emma fills up a coffee cup.

"Guess that's the end of out little 'partnership', Jones." She says, adressing Killian.

"I guess so." He sighs. "It was a pleasure, Detective."

Emma's mouth curls up into a slight smile. "I'll have one of the officers walk you out."

"I think I can find my way." He smiles. "Goodbye, Miss Swan."

She nods at his retreating figure. He calmly steps into the elevator, still in her line of sight, and gives a salute as the doors shut, causing Emma to smile. _Goddamn him, _she thinks.

* * *

He shuts the polished red door behind him as he steps into his apartment, leaning his back against it. He can't seem to get Emma Swan off his mind. He knew he shouldn't hink about her in _that way, _but he couldn't help but think what she looked like completely sated, glowing with sweat, draped in white linen... _No, Killian, stop. She is a cop, not to mention your sister's boyfriend's ex-fiancée..._

"Killian Jones!" His sister's voice exclaims, as her petite frame bounds down the stairs. "Where the hell were you? It's almost eleven o' clock, and the phone has been ringing off the hook!" As well as Tink being his sister, she also served as his agent and publicist.

"If you must know, I was at the pub." He smirks, shedding his jacket and heading to his bedroom.

"Killian! Your publisher has been calling you all day! She needs the plan for your next book by tomorrow!" She shouts after him.

"Well tell that bloodsucking wench that she can have the plan when I'm finished it!" He yells in reply, shedding his jeans when he reaches his bedroom.

"And when will that be? I told Milah that you'd call her by midnight." She says from the other side of the now closed door.

"Are you out of your mind?!" He shouts, whipping the door open. "You want me to call that money-draining, time-consuming ex-wife of mine so that I can listen to her rant about how I haven't met my deadline yet again? No. Not gonna happen. Not tonight. Call her and tell her she can have the outline of the book when I have it."

"Killian Christopher Jones! You listen to me. You are going to pick up that phone, dial your publisher ex-wife, and tell her that she will have the outline by next week. At the latest." She threatens.

"Am I, now?" He challenges.

"Yes, you are. So you better get your arse into that office and start on that book. And if you don't, I will break both your legs, 'kay?"

"As you wish, milady." He replies, bowing his head in mock obedience.

Tink rolls her eyes and exits the hallway. Meanwhile, Killian reluctantly slumps into his office chair, opens his laptop and begins to write. No, correction, procrastinating. He always did this, leave his writing to the last possible minute.

He sits there for a good hour before he types one word. _Heat. _

That word sets him off. His fingers begin to flurry over the keys, drawing up a plan for his next novel. And, at 7.15am the next morning, his mind thick with drowsiness, he comes up with what is probably his best idea yet.

He decides to get some sleep before he puts his plan into action.

* * *

He emerges from his room hours later, hungry and seriously low on caffeine. He begins to brew a fresh pot of coffee when his doorbell rings.

Still in his plaid pyjama pants and black t-shirt, his hair still messed up and sticking up at all angles, he strolls over to the door. Upon opening it, his worst nightmare materialises. His ex-wife.

"Milah." He greets. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Her face looked more sour than he felt, although she had no reason to be. She got most of his stuff in their divorce, and he still had to put up with her whining. _Every. Single. Day. _

"You were meant to call me last night, Killian. With your book outline?"

"Oh, that. I guess I got kind of carried away, you know, actually doing it." He replies.

"So you have it done?" She asks.

"Almost. Rest assured, dear, I will have it on your desk by the end of the day." He answers.

"You better, or I will make sure this book never makes it to print." She says menacingly, heading towards the elevator.

He smirks, shutting the door. He gets his favourite mug out of the cabinet, pouring coffee into it. Then, picking up his phone, he dials the Mayor's number.

"Roy!" He greets. "How've you been, my friend?"

/You know, Killian, the usual. Calling to schedule another poker game?/ He says through the phone.

"Among other things. I wanted to ask you a favour."

* * *

"Swan." Captain Mills calls from her office as Emma enters the bullpen. With the closure of the Fairytale case, Emma had no other cases, so she had decided to devote this entire day to paperwork.

"Captain?" She asks.

"My office. Now." Her domineering Captain orders. Regina Mills, while most detectives and cops feared her, was quite fond of Emma. Emma was always confused as to why, because by right, Regina should hate her, at least dislike her, as Emma had smashed every record that Regina had set; youngest detective in the force, highest case closure rate in the history of the NYPD, etc. But nevertheless, Regina Mills still held Emma in a higher light than most other detectives.

"Yes, ma'am." Emma obeyed. She followed her boss into the oak-furnished office, where another person sat. Emma recognised him immediately. _Goddamn him and his perfect hair, _she thinks.

"Detective Swan, I'm sure you remember Killian Jones." She begins, gesturing to the outsider in from of her desk.

"Of course." Emma replies, shaking Killian's hand out of courtesy.

"Pleasure to see you again, Miss Swan." He smirks. _Dear God, that man can smile. _

"Now, Detective Swan, It seems like that you have captured the attention of Mister Jones here." Regina says, and Emma can feel a slight blush spread across her face. "I got a call from the mayor this morning saying that Mister Jones here has requested to shadow you on your cases for research for his next series of novels."

Emma raises her eyebrows in disbelief. "Wait, he wants to follow me on cases? No way. I'm not going to have a civilian follow me on cases that could very well land him in danger, even get him killed. Plus, I work better alone." She argues, using her best defence tactics.

"I promise you, Miss Swan, that I will try my hardest to assist in whatever way I can and hopefully keep myself out of the line of fire." He counters, smiling innocently at the detective.

"Do I have a choice?" She asks her captain, silently hoping that there wasn't one.

"I'm afraid you don't, Miss Swan. Mayor's orders. You are to act as Mister Jones' 'muse' until he feels that he has sufficient material for his novels." Regina answers.

"Wait, hold on. His 'muse'?" She asks, slightly offended, slightly flattered.

"Yes, Detective, I've decided to base my next series of novels on a smart, savvy female crime fighter. Also known as you." He informs with his dashing smirk painted on his face.

Emma's brows furrow, unsure what to think of being someone's 'muse'. Muses are Ancient Goddesses, something for painters and sculptors to depict in beautiful masterpieces. _Certainly not me,_ Emma thinks, _I'm no muse. _

"Now that that's cleared up, Detective Swan, you need to get back to work, and Mister Jones, I will call you personally when Emma and her team get a case. But for now, you can go home." Regina says, taking a seat. "Dismissed."

Emma rushes out of the office, desperate to bury herself in paperwork. To her misfortune, Killian Jones sits down beside her.

"I guess we'll be working together for a while, love." He says, slumped in the chair, his hair perfectly tousled, clad in a leather jacket and white t-shirt, looking very _Grease-_like as his cerulean blues bore into her green eyes.

"Okay, Jones. Here is how it's going to work," Emma says sternly, turning her body to face him, "First of all, you stay out of my way. Second, you always do what I tell you to while you are in this precinct. Thirdly, never, ever lie to me. I can always tell when someone is lying." Emma continues, her eyes narrowing. "And lastly, never, _ever_ call me 'love'."

* * *

_Hope you liked it! Review? :3_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Why, hello there fellow Oncer. Welcome to Chapter 4, dearie. I hope it is to your liking._

* * *

When she got home, Mary Margaret slumped down onto her colourful couch. Three autopsies, a decidedly weird murder case, a best-selling author and an Emma dilemma again made her decide that what she needed was a hot bath, food, and sleep. And wine. Lots of wine. Just as she stepped into the bathroom to run her bath, however, her cell phone started blaring out her ringtone.

_Caller ID: Victor Whale_

Feeling too tired and emotionally drained to answer the phone, she let it go to voicemail. She could not reject Dr. Whale for the third time this week, so she ignored it and returned to the bathroom. Mary-Margaret pretended not to notice his advances; from frequently asking her out to dinner or coffee, complimenting her on what she wears or her hair, and getting downright jealous when he sees her and David 'flirting' (if you could call it that). After her talk with Emma in the morgue earlier, Mary-Margaret decides that the only way to get Whale to lay off is to tell him to. And what better way to do that than go out with David Nolan? For her, it would be a win-win situation, and then Whale could finally see the other woman who is crazy for him. To be honest, she thinks that Ruby and Whale would make the best couple, because they're scientists, and have a lot in common, get along well, and they both are pretty damn cute. The NYPD science community's power couple, so to speak.

Emma had told her to ask David out, and she seems pretty sure that David is 'head-over-heels in love' with her as she so delicately put it, so she is beginning to think that asking David out wouldn't be such a bad idea. Emma, on the other hand, is a totally different story. The woman has been so betrayed by love in the past that she refuses to open up to anyone. Mary-Margaret is really the only one that knows Emma inside and out. They had been best friends since Emma joined the homicide unit, making frequent trips to the morgue for cases.

Now, Emma tells Mary-Margaret everything, evident by Emma's unnecessary trip to the autopsy room today.

Leaving the bathroom, feeling fresh and clean, the pixie-haired woman goes to check her messages. Sure enough, there was a message from Whale, a text from Emma and another from Charming. Seeing his name pop up on her screen makes her smile. Of course, Charming isn't his real name, just something that Mary-Margaret started calling him when he started calling her Snow. It had been the first week David was in the homicide unit, over a year ago now, and David had noted that Mary-Margaret bears a striking similarity to the Princess. She had retorted "Very funny, Charming." To which he had replied with a laugh; "Does that mean I'm your Prince Charming?" Emma was present at the time, rolling her eyes and internally throwing up at all the cuteness.

First, she checks the message from Dr. Whale.

_/Hey, Mary-Margaret. It's Victor. I just...uh...call me back when you get this, if you can./_

Oh, Victor, if only he could see past her and see the dark-haired CSI that was madly in love with him. She feels sorry for him, in a way, because deep down, she knows he's a good person, and deserves love. She knows that both Ruby and Victor try to cover up the fact that they are lonely by a string of endless one-night-stands and flirting with anything that has a pulse. Mary-Margaret sees that they are perfect for each other.

The second message, from Emma, says that the blonde-haired detective will be making an appearance at her apartment in fifteen minutes. Just enough time to get dressed and find the good wine.

The third, from David, is the one she really wants to read. She opens the message, along with the picture attached to it. It's a picture of two tickets, the caption reading; _Would Snow White care to attend a concert with her Prince Charming? ;)_

Smiling, the petite woman zooms into the picture, reading the artist's name. Snow gasped. Immediately, she texted him back, asking; _How the hell did you get tickets to a Sara Bareilles concert?! They sold out months ago! ;) _

Seconds later, she receives a reply. _Let's just say I have friends in high places. So is that a yes? ;) _

_Most definitely. _She types, chewing her lip. _Can't wait. ;) _

Send. Rolling onto her pillows, she screams in delight. Not only did David ask her out, but to a concert she has been wanting to see for ages. _Wait, did he ask her out? It sure seemed like it. _

As that thought crossed her mind, there was a knock on her door. Opening it, knowing already who to expect, she greeted Emma with a happy grin and a hug.

"You're quite chipper today, Mags." Emma notes in surprise.

"I had a good day." She replies, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Ah, I know that face. David finally asked you out, didn't he?" Emma could read Mary-Margaret the same way that Mary-Margaret could read Emma.

"I don't know what you mean." She says, struggling to contain a smile.

"He did!" Emma gasps. "Where, when, how?"

The petite woman now allows herself to smile. A big, wide smile. "A concert. A Sara Bareilles concert, if you can believe it! He even knew that I've been wanting to go to one of her concerts for months now." She giggles. "As for the when, this weekend. Friday night." Pulling out her phone, she shows Emma the messages.

"Aw, Mags, I'm so happy for you." Emma says, sounding less enthusiastic than she wanted to.

When Mary-Margaret looks at Emma with a sympathetic look, Emma knew that there was an emotional conversation heading her way.

"Oh gosh, sweetie, I'm sorry." She says as she pulls Emma into an embrace.

"About what?"

"About you and Neal." She sighs. "I know seeing him again mustn't have been the easiest thing to go through."

"Hah! And seeing him with his g_irlfriend, _no less." Emma sniffles as they take a seat on the couch as Mary-Margaret pours two glasses of wine. "It was just...salt in the wound, you know? I feel like I just got over him, and then he just waltzes back into my life?" Emma pauses, fighting the urge to cry. "And now, there's an even bigger chance I'll see him, because that...writer wriggled his way onto my team. And Neal's girlfriend is his stepsister." Emma groans in frustration, throwing her head into her hands. "God, my life is _so screwed up._"

"Oh, Emma. Your life is far from screwed up. Look at you! You are on of the most well-known cops in the NYPD. Highest case closure rate, youngest detective, and a whole host of other awards and commendations. You grew up in the system, sure, but you managed to get a scholarship and a good education for yourself. And, most of all, you're surrounded by people who love you to death. Me, David, Graham," Emma's breath hitches when Mary-Margaret mentions the Irish detective, which slightly confuses the ME, "everyone at the precinct adores you, even the Evil Regina Mills." Emma laughs at the portrayal of her boss. Most cops call her the Evil Regal, her name meaning royalty, after all. "And the person that loves you the most, Henry. Emma, you have the best son anyone could ask for. And he loves you. More than anything."

Emma nods, smiling sadly. "And I love him, too." She says, almost whispering.

After a minute of silence, Mary-Margaret says cheerfully; "Okay! Enough serious talk. Let's talk about...guys?"

Emma narrows her eyes at the other woman. "You just want to talk about the fact that you're going out with David, aren't you?"

"No! No!" She assures. "Let's talk about you!"

"Mags, I don't think there's anything 'guy related' to talk about when it comes to me."

"Oh, please." She scoffs. "Did you not notice the very handsome, very successful writer that followed you around like a lost puppy for the whole day?"

"What, Jones?" Mary-Margaret nods. "Oh, come on! He's a totally manipulative, full-of-himself, egotistical-"

"Not to mention sexy as hell."

Emma sighs. "Okay, I'll give him that. But his personality sucks. And do you know what he called me today? His 'muse'. God, can you believe that guy?"

Mary-Margaret chuckles. "Emma, come on! Isn't it clear that this guy is obviously attracted to you?"

Emma scoffs. "Yeah. Sure."

"Sweetheart, when will you ever just open yourself up to the fact that someone could be attracted to you? Hell, Graham was."

"Really? Bringing Graham up?" Emma stumbles over his name.

"Em, is there something I don't know about?"

"Wha-What do you mean? I told you I slept with Graham."

"But you said it was only one time." She replies. "And frankly, I don't believe you."

Emma rolls her eyes and throws her head on the back of the couch. "Okay..." She sighs. "...it wasn't just the one time."

Snow gasps. "I knew it!" Emma raises a suspicious eyebrow at the woman. "So...how many times was it then?"

"Oh...I don't know...maybe fifteen, twenty times?"

"Emma! How dare you not tell me! You two are practically dating!"

"Whoa, whoa. We are _not _dating. It's just casual sex, that's it."

Now it's Mary-Margaret's turn to raise her eyebrow. "If it's been going on this long, Ems, then if you haven't developed feelings for him, then I'm damn sure that he has for you."

Emma's brow furrows in confusion. "Really? I mean, I don't think I feel anything for him, and I've never noticed that he feels differently."

"Ems, let me give you a bit of advice. Men don't stick around for long if she's not someone special. And if Graham's still around, then he most likely thinks that you're worth his time."

Emma's face turns into one of realisation. _Maybe Graham does like her._

* * *

"Just ask her out already, Dave!" Graham tells his partner as he makes his way to his living room with two beers.

"Are you going to let this go if I do?" He retorts, accepting the beer.

"No." He laughs, taking a seat. "But it'll make you a lot happier."

"And why would it do that?" David replies nonchalantly.

"Because you're crazy for her, mate. I thought you were going to rip that writer's head off when he was flirting with her at the crime scene." He chuckles.

"Because he was acting like a jerk!" He yells.

"Keep telling yourself that, man. But seriously, if you don't ask her out soon, she may just give in to someone else's advances."

Realisation dawned on the detective. Maybe Graham was right. Maybe Snow would get tired of waiting and move on to someone else. The thought disturbed him. _Changing the subject..._

"Well, what about you and Emma?"

The other detective nearly spit up his beer. "What about me and Emma?"

"Dude, come on! I see the way you look at her! Go on, try telling me there's nothing going on between you two. With a straight face." He chuckles.

"Challenge Accepted." He replies, turning slightly to face his partner. "I do not have feelings for Emma."

David considered for a moment, then said; "Don't believe you."

Graham looked shocked. "I do not have feelings for Emma!" He repeats, making David even more suspicious.

"You know, for a cop, you're a pretty bad liar." He laughs.

"I'm not lying!"

"Then how did Emma's necklace end up shoved down between your couch cushions?" He asks, raising an eyebrow, and holding a silver pendant with a swan engraved on it.

"She, uh, must have left it there after we watched a movie the other night." He replies, further proving David's theory that the man was lying. And horribly at that.

"She never takes this necklace off. Ever." He informs. "The only way it could have ended up here was if..." David shuddered at the thought. He never thought about Emma in that way. Ever.

Graham sighs. He knows he's busted. "Fine! Alright! Emma and I have slept together!"

David's eyes widen. He'd expected Graham to say he had a crush on her, or something, but not that they were sleeping together.

"So, you two are dating?" He asks, his voice shaking slightly.

"No. It's just a casual thing. Nothing more than that." Graham assures as David snaps back to reality.

"Nah, I don't think it is."

"What?"

"You and Emma. It's far from casual, at least on your end. I see the way you look at her dude. You don't look at her like you just want to sleep with her. You look at her like you care about her." He says, and David knows it's true.

"Of course I care about her. She my friend. Our friend. But I don't want a relationship with her." He scoffs in reply.

"Okay. Fine. Whatever you say. But I tell you, even if you can't admit it to yourself, you like Emma. Like, _like-like _her. And if you don't tell her now, you are going to be furious when someone else gets her, because no doubt someone will." David says, but as he's saying it, it dawns on him that he can apply the same theory to him and Snow.

Something dawns on Graham, too. _I might have feelings for Emma._

So, when the two men part and go their separate ways, they pull out their phones.

Only one sends a message.

* * *

_I'm not too sure about this chapter. I like the ending, but everything else... Drop me a review, I'd love to know what you guys thought of it! :3_

_Reviews make me feel all fluffy inside :3_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5.**

_Hey! I just want to clear something up with you guys. This is a Captain Swan Fic, and I'm probably just gonna play with your emotions for a while until those two crazy kids get together :3 Also, I know that Killian's accent in the show is English, but I wanted him to be Irish in this so that he can have something in common with Graham, and then use that power to blast all the feels onto the page! :3 Enjoy!_

* * *

"Good morning, Swan." Killian greeted as the blonde-haired detective sat down in her chair.

"You're here early, Jones." She says, sipping her horrible coffee. They had been working together for almost a week now, and Emma has learned that the writer is actually somewhat tolerable. Sometimes. He gets on her nerves when he pretends to act like a superhero when they apprehend suspects, go on car chases and search buildings.

"Couldn't wait to see your radiant face, love." He retorts with a lopsided grin.

Emma almost spits out her coffee. "What did I say about calling me 'love'?"

"Not to." He replies confidently. "But, you see, Swan, I think that, deep down, you quite like it."

She narrows her eyes at the writer. "Nah," she says, shaking her head, "I don't think I do."

"Is that to convince me or you?" He quips, still grinning.

Emma doesn't have an answer for him, so she buries her head in her paperwork. Killian smiles triumphantly, knowing that he won. Thankfully, her phone rings.

"Swan." She greets as she picks it up.

It was dispatch, telling her that there was a murder in an office in Midtown.

"Yeah, I'm on my way." She says, hanging up the phone. Killian was looking at her with a sort of childlike enthusiasm. Emma picks up her coat while saying; "Murder in Midtown."

"Let's go."

* * *

The case was open-and-shut, given the fact that the boyfriend was found high as a kite with the victim's blood on his hands a few blocks away, and he was caught on security tapes entering the building at TOD.

Given it was Friday again, Emma got to go home at a reasonable hour, but her phone kept ringing off the hook. Except it wasn't from the precinct. The calls were from Mary-Margaret, frantically searching for something to wear to the concert. Another call was from Ruby, inviting her over for drinks. Emma declined, saying that she was going home to spend time with her son, maybe they'd go out tomorrow night.

Another call was from Neal. She immediately declined the call, not wanting anything to do with the guy. Killian hadn't spoken of the little 'flare up' since it had happened, and Emma was thankful for that. Neal left a message, however, one that Emma didn't hear.

/Emma, it's Neal. Look, I should have known better than to call you, but I just need to talk. I'm sorry, Em, I truly, truly am. You don't have to call me back, I just wanted you to know that./

Killian was in the next room when he called her, and he felt a pang of emotion as he spoke. He couldn't explain it, maybe it was the overprotective brother in him, thinking of his sister, and how Neal had a history with Emma. Maybe it was because Emma was his partner, and even though they didn't know each other that well, he still felt sorry that he brought the bastard that hurt her back into her life. The other reason was altogether more frightening. He knew that there was a possibility that he liked Emma, and it wasn't just a physical attraction, he admired her for her strength, confidence, and a whole host of other reasons, but he didn't want to admit it to himself.

He found himself smiling as he wrote the third chapter of his book, having ink about the Swan girl who inspired it. In this chapter, Detective Nicole Heat, usually referred to as Nikki, receives a tough case, dragging a handsome FBI agent into her precinct.

Her team mates were based on David and Graham, along with some of the other detectives in the 12th. Their no-nonsense captain was most definitely based on Captain Mills, who as far as Killian could tell, didn't like him or anyone else besides Emma Swan. He was going to have to find out why.

He glanced over at his clock, hours later, his headphones still in, it was midnight, and he made the decision to turn in for the night.

That night, he dreamt of golden hair and green eyes.

* * *

Mary-Margaret had shown up to the morgue at seven o' clock, all dressed up in a white and red dress with three-quarter length sleeves. She had left her purse in her locker in her haste to get home. Because she had to go through the morgue to get to her locker, she bumped into Dr. Whale.

"Oh, Victor. Good evening." She greets politely, and tries to avoid his gaze, which is currently travelling quickly up her body.

"Mary-Margaret, you look absolutely stunning tonight." He tells her, smiling.

She smiles in return. "I have a date. I just left my purse in my locker. I'll be on my way."

"A date, huh?" He asks, his voice a little unsure.

"Yes. And I'm late, so I better get going." She says hastily, turning to leave.

"May I ask you a question?" He asks before she leaves.

She sighs. "Of course. What is it?"

"Why would you never go out on a date with me?" He says directly.

She pauses to think of her answer. "Victor, you're a great guy. Really. But..." She trails off. "...God, this is such a cliché. You're not my type."

His eyes widen before replying. "I understand. Have fun on your date." He begins to walk away.

"Victor, wait!" Mary-Margaret shouts after him. "You may not be my type, but you're most definitely someone else's. And she's closer than you think."

His brow furrows in concentration as the pixie-haired woman walks away. What the smaller ME doesn't see, however, is realisation dawning on the man's face.

He mentally kicks himself for not seeing it sooner.

* * *

Graham had stayed late at the precinct, catching up on the masses of paperwork that had accumulated on his desk.

He was just finishing an incident report from a few weeks ago when he heard laughing in the corridor. His first instinct was to get out of there, but that seemed grossly illogical. So he remained seated at his desk, located across from Emma's. When she was here, he would steal glimpses of the beauty's face, concentrating on her casework.

But she wasn't here. Captain Mills was. And so was Robin. And they were laughing. And looking _way _too close. They approached her office, the Captain unlocking her door. The other detective was smiling, and while the Evil Regal was opening the door, Robin did something that made Graham wish he'd followed his earlier instinct. He kissed Regina Mills. _Captain _Regina Mills. _Yep, _he thought, _those two are definitely together._ He shudders, and waits for the pair to be safely inside the office before he quietly sprints out of the precinct.

_I didn't just see that, did I? _

Isabelle French was sitting at the mahogany desk in her apartment, on her computer, when there was a rhythmical _rat-tat-tat _on the door.

She stood up off her chair and made her way to the front door of her apartment. Looking through the peephole, she saw the very person she wanted to.

"Rumple." She greets in her Australian accent, smiling. He was dressed in his usual suit, and was grinning at the woman in the doorway.

"Belle." He replies.

They don't waste another second. Belle pulls her boyfriend in the doorway, pressing her lips to his. She feels his lips curl up into a smile as they cross the tiny living room.

They had been doing this for months now, and so far, only Ruby knew. She considered that an accomplishment. They agreed they would keep it as secret as possible, because, although the crime lab didn't have any policy about co-workers dating, Rumple was her boss. The head of the crime lab and his second-in-command. It was weird, and frankly, Belle didn't like being the subject of office gossip.

Besides the fact that Belle had to keep the relationship a secret, she was blissfully happy, and she was quite sure that she was falling in love with the man.

He hadn't felt this way since he met his first wife. When she died, years ago, he was positive that he'd never love anyone again. Until Belle transferred to his lab a little over a year ago. The woman saw him for what he really was, not the way everyone perceived him. The other CSI's, with the exception of Ruby, didn't particularly like the man.

Belle gave him a sense of belonging. She made him feel loved.

* * *

_So that's another chapter down! I wanted to ask you guys if you preferred shorter, more frequently updated chapters or longer chapters that are posted on the weekends? I'd love to know what you think! Please leave a review! [Exit, pursued by a bear.]_


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